Kill For You
by jewelswrites
Summary: Her father owed him a shit ton of money – thanks to his gambling addiction. Because of this, he makes a deal with the devil to sell his daughter in hopes to settle his debt; he agrees.
1. Can't No Preacher Man Save My Soul

**Can't No Preacher Man Save My Soul**

* * *

"You did what?!"

All throughout the town Jensen Kasser was known as a degenerate gambler. Untrustworthy, deceitful and cunning the man didn't uphold a generous reputation. He had been known to sell out even his own best friend to get out of a sticky situation - resulting in the slaughter of said best friend. Despite his status, Jensen had started off as a good father.

Arielle Kasser had been his precious princess from the moment he held her in his arms. Her bright blue eyes, resembling his own, staring up at him gave him the hope he needed to turn his life around. And he did … for a while. When Arielle turned five years old, her mother had unfortunately been involved in a hit and run - the police found her dead on arrival. She had been on her way home from a late night shift at the diner, and never made it home. Since then, Mr. Kasser fell deep into his downward spiral. For a few years his parents helped with Arielle, raising her and teaching how to become a proper young woman, but it was only a matter of time until it was their time to pass. When she was twelve, Arielle was stuck in a home with an absent parent addicted to alcohol, pills and gambling - a toxic combination. She slowly learned how to hate her father and fend for herself, learning life's true harsh lesson - every man for themselves.

Now a grown woman - twenty-six years of age - the blonde wasn't surprised to find her father in yet another financial rut. However, this time, he got himself into deep shit; the kind leading to cooperation or death. Having borrowed money and unable to pay the high amount, Mr. Kasser did the only thing he could do to save his own skin.

"Look, Elle, you don't want your old man to die, do you?" he questioned, his attempt in trying to manipulate the situation.

"At this point I really wouldn't fucking care," she answered truthfully, attempting to push her father out of her room. "How fucking dare you!" she screamed, her fists pumping against his chest. "I am not a pawn to throw at someone for your sick, twisted addiction. I am a human being - not a toy!" Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as her eyes filled with tears of rage. "I am your daughter. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"Of course it does!" Something in his language changed - his eyes darkening. "It means you owe your life to me; 'cause if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be alive." Arielle took a step back, struck by a stupor from his words. Though she knew her father was a deadbeat, gambling obsession, conceited dickhead, she couldn't comprehend how low he had sunk. "Now you're going to go off with him like a good little girl and you're going to shut up about it."

"NO!" Arielle, in a fit of rage, shoved her father into the wall hard enough for him to create a hole in the structure. Swiftly grabbing her phone, Arielle sprinted from her room, into the hallway but was stopped in the living room but a group of three men blocking the door; two burly bodyguards and a man wearing a sly smirk.

"Hello darling," he greeted - the smirk growing bigger. "Sweet fucking baby Jesus; you're Jonesin' Jensen's kid? Well, well, I'm gonna have fun with you." Arielle stood in fear, her eyes wide and lips slightly agape. The man took a few steps closer to her, lightly stroking her cheek with a gloved hand. "Name's Negan. And you are mine now." His husky, yet threatening, tone sent shivers down her spine. This was it, the beginning of the rest of her life.

* * *

 _Quote: "Won't go back to Barton Hollow, devil gon' follow me e'er I go. Won't do me no good washing in the river; can't no preacher man save my soul."_

 **Author's Note: Here is my attempt at doing a Negan fic. Inspired by the song Kill For You by Skylar Grey.**


	2. You Can't Wake Up This Is Not A Dream

**You Can't Wake Up; This Is Not A Dream**

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 _tw: death; tw: guns; tw: blood; tw: swearing_

* * *

If she were to go, she wouldn't go without a fight.

It had taken the men to carry the blonde into the large black SUV a good half an hour; with her throwing punches, running through the small house and pushing everything in their way to try and help herself. But Arielle stopped suddenly when she heard the click of a gun hammer being pulled back. Turning, she found herself staring down the barrel generously provided by one of the bodyguards. The girl surrendered, her hands raised as her way of illustrating a white flag. Roughly taking her wrist, the bodyguard without the gun dragged her along with him toward the front of the house to where Negan had stayed, his whistle echoing through the corridors.

"There you are darling," he greeted her again with a victorious smile. "Come now, don't be afraid." She wasn't. As a matter of fact, Arielle had no time to be afraid as anger pumped viciously through her veins.

Wincing away from his touch, Arielle took a step back to only be pulled forward by the bodyguard.

"Dwight, please. Don't manhandle the fucking girl; be gentle," Negan instructed, his voice amused but his dark stare threatening. Obeying his boss, the bodyguard offered a mumbled apology, his grip still tight against her arm.

"So we're clear right? My debt to you is settled?" Jensen asked shakily.

"Oh right," Negan nodded, his finger in the air. "About that."

Without warning, his bodyguard raised his gun, shooting the father in the head. Arielle jumped from the sound, all the air leaving her body as she watched her father's limp body fall to the floor, blood pouring out of the small .22 caliber bullet hole in the middle of his forehead. "Any man who sells his daughter for his own volition doesn't deserve to live." Snapping, Negan turned on his heel, making his way toward the large black SUVs waiting for him outside the house. His trusted right-hand man followed closely behind, concealing the weapon within his coat as the other stayed with Arielle.

She was in shock, her body trembling. Eyes wide open, mouth agape, the woman couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from her fallen father; a bastard in every sense of the word. Though he hadn't been a father to her but more of a monster, Arielle still felt a wave of sadness wash over her. It was the same sadness any daughter would feel realizing they would never have the opportunity for a father/daughter relationship depicted on the television screen; she'd never have her father walk her down the aisle, or teach her how to drive stick. She'd never experience the joy of telling her father he was going to be a grandfather; it was all at his own fault.

"Don't I get to pack?" Arielle finally mustered out, wiping away the silent tear sliding down her cheek.

"No," Dwight answered, pulling her with him outside the house - closing the red door behind them. Though he pulled her in the opposite direction, Arielle's attention stayed with the house. For years she envisioned herself finally walking away from the house, creating a new and proud life for herself - one her father had never helped her with. Instead, the woman suddenly felt a small grudge begin to form within her heart against her father. Her freedom was taken away and handed to another man.

Once inside the vehicle, Negan sitting comfortably next to her, the man offered a black bag. Arching a brow, Arielle silently inquired what she was to do with the bag. "I deem it highly disrespectful to put a bag over your head - so you're gonna do it for me." Rolling her eyes, the blonde took the bag from his hand, placing it over her head. "Good girl," Negan purred, lightly rubbing her arm. At the feel of his fingertips gliding against her skin, Arielle folded her arms across her chest, crossing her legs in the process.

"What you're father did was wrong." Closing her eyes, Arielle refused to allow the tears threatening to escape to pour down her cheeks. Holding her breath, she could hear the man shift in his seat, his hand staying where it was. "I hope you understand why I did what I had to do." His voice was sincere with a hint of softness; this didn't help her already bubbling emotions.

"It's fine. I'm used to it," she whispered, her foot slightly shaking.

"That's bullshit," he answered her, a little harsher than he anticipated. "A father isn't supposed to let down his little girl; nor should he put anything above his children."

"Sounds like you speak from experience." He said nothing but moved in his seat once again - his touch removed from her arm. It seemed she had pushed a button and the rest of the car ride was silent aside from the occasional one sided conversation from the men.

* * *

Finally the vehicle came to a stop and Arielle thanked the universe as she was beginning to get car sick. Still the black bag stayed on even as Dwight extracted the girl from the back of the car. Holding tightly onto her arm, the man directed her inside a building. Listening intently to her surroundings, the woman heard nothing but the sounds of their collective footsteps clicking against flooring. She guessed tile or linoleum flooring, hearing the vibrations echo through a large open room. Where the hell am I? She mentally asked herself, uselessly praying they'd stop soon and the bag would be removed.

It seemed her prayers were answered. A clicking noise surprised her and Negan's voice caused her to jump. "Welcome to your new home, sweetheart," he chimed. Through his words she could tell he was smiling, and she was right. As the black bag was finally removed from her head, her blonde hair disheveled, Arielle found herself standing at the doorway to a large room, big enough to seem as if it was a presidential suite at a four star hotel. The floors were white carpet, the California King mattress and bedroom set matching the floor with gold embroidery. Going from the small bedroom with a twin bed in her father's small rancher to a bedroom the size of her old home made Arielle speechless.

The three men waited patiently by the door while Arielle took a few steps into the room, her eyes scanning her new place of residence. Yes, it was an upgrade from what she had ever experienced but to what cost?

Suddenly her mind traveled back to her father, being reminded of what he did. Turning to face the men, Arielle's gaze fell on Negan who leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest. "You like it?" he asked with a smile.

"What are my chores here?" the woman asked, ignoring his question. This earned snickers from both Dwight and the other guard, their footsteps audible as they walked off. Negan, on the other hand, stayed where he was.

"I asked you a question."

"And I answered with one," Arielle spoke defiantly, her arms mimicking his. Negan didn't take kindly to this; no one disobeyed him. Moving swiftly into the room, he extended his arm, tightly gripping her face with his hand.

"You don't get to ask me a single fucking question." The woman whimpered, her hands finding his wrist in an attempt to rip his strong grip from her face. "I own you. You come when I say. You bark if I tell you to; you strip if I want you to. You belong to me." Arielle's eyes widened at his words realizing Negan was nothing like her father; he was worse.

The man let go of her face, watching as the blonde fell to the ground. With one arm on the floor, the other rose, her hand holding where his hand had previously had been. "Now, get cleaned up and dressed like a good little girl and meet me for dinner at seven. I'll have Dwight escort you down." Without another word, Negan turned on his boot heel and sauntered out of her room, slamming closed the door behind him. She didn't move but simply kept her gaze upon the door holding no lock on the inside. Truly Arielle was no longer a free woman – she belonged to a man she knew nothing about. She had a feeling things were going to get a lot worse very fast.

* * *

 _Quote: "You can't wake up this is not a dream, you're part of a machine, you are not a human being. Put your face all made up living on a screen; low on self-esteem so you run on gasoline."_

 **Author's Note: Second chapter out! I'm trying my best to release the chapters much faster - fingers crossed it works. Let me know what you think about this one! All feedback is appreciated!**


	3. There's An Old Man Sitting On The Throne

**There's An Old Man Sitting On The Throne...**

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 _tw: swearing_

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There was a moment of weakness where she had allowed herself to mourn her old life, who she was and who she was going to become. The tears fell relentlessly despite her internal mental pleas to be strong. In that moment of weakness, Arielle fell next to her bed, her back leaning against the mattress while her head fell on her risen knees. Her once beautifully applied make-up ran down her face creating a smoke raccoon eye look. It wasn't until the sobs began to subside and her ass felt numb from being on the floor for so long when she realized what time it was. The glowing read numbers showed the time of '6:15'; time for her to get ready for dinner.

Lifting herself up with help from the bed, Arielle moved to the window. A white curtain was blocking the sun's rays from entering the room; moving the fabric out of the way she realized how trapped she truly was – bars guarded her in the room. Her heart sank and her eyes briefly closed as her hand fell to her side, the curtain hiding her prison bars.

"Okay girl, we'll figure something out later. Right now we gotta get ready." Immediately the girl moved to the adjoined bathroom, instantly getting into the shower. Upon feeling the warm water hit her skin, Arielle felt a sense of peace – like the water was washing away all her troubles. Like each droplet of water dripping down her petite body contained a piece of darkness from her life and carried it down to the drain, depleting the sorrows she felt deep within her heart.

Once her shower was done and she was dried and make-up cleaned, Arielle began working on fixing herself to be presentable. She assumed Negan would have wanted her to look her best; but with what clothes? Walking over to the closet, Arielle lazily pulled open the door. She stopped dead in her tracks. Wide-eyed, Arielle couldn't believe what she was seeing; a walk-in closet filled with clothes of all colors and shoes – mainly heels – and handbags and jewelry. "Who the hell _is_ this man?" she asked herself as her arm extended and caressing a fur jacket. Snapping herself back to reality, Arielle quickly looked for something to wear. Settling on gray skinny jeans with a beige blouse ruffled at the shoulders and black heels, Arielle looked herself over in the full length mirror. The clothes fit perfectly as if they were hand picked for her size.

She heard a knock at the door, startling her from her thoughts. "I'll be right there," Arielle called out. Smoothing the blouse against her skin, she shrugged, knowing it was the best she was going to look without make-up to put on or proper hair products to tame her curls.

Opening the door, Arielle came face to face with the other guard – the one who threatened her with the gun and not Dwight. "Put your hair up." Dumbfounded by the sudden order, Arielle simply blinked. "HE wants your hair to be pulled back - don't fucking ask and just do it." Flustered, Arielle took the hair tie from her wrist and quickly pulled her hair up in a ponytail.

"Better?" she asked, an obvious tone dripping in her voice.

"Watch yourself," the man warned, pointing a finger in her face. "Or you'll be out of here quick like the rest of them." Heeding his warning, Arielle bit her tongue looking innocently up at the man towering over her.

 _Like the rest of them._ His statement surely confirmed the inquiries she had earlier on whether or not there were others before her. Instantly she grew afraid of knowing how and why they were no longer around; were they killed? Were they freed? "My apologies," she mumbled, trying to hide her discomfort.

"That's better." Nodding for her to start moving, the man followed behind the girl as they made their way toward the dining area. By the looks of the interior of the home, Arielle guessed she was inside of a mansion - a well maintained mansion somewhere in with land surrounding it. Like her room, the hallways were white and gold giving it a modern but vintage feel to it. She hated to admit it, but the home was beautiful. With her attention pulled to the home, she hadn't realized they arrived at the dining room, Negan cheerily awaiting her arrival.

"Welcome, darling," he greeted, rising to his feet. "I do hope you're hungry; I prepared us quite a feast." The blonde walked closer to the table, watching as Negan pulled open the chair for her. Like a gentleman, he pushed her chair in once she was seated and took his own seat as the head of the table. "Hope you like seafood."

She didn't. In face, Arielle hated seafood and preferred beef and steak over any other meats, but she was quickly learning to accept what came her way and decided to continue to do so until she saw the opportunity to run.

Giving him a slight nod, she added a small smile as her hands found their way on the table. "So, am I allow to speak?" she questioned.

"Well shit, of course you can sweetheart," Negan answered, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Her eyes darted to his mouth. Despite her situation, Arielle had to admit Negan was a fairly attractive captor; handsome with dimples pooling in his cheeks when he smiled, a salt and peppered beard matching his black and white attire. He dressed in dark jeans, black boots and a white t-shirt hidden by the black suit jacket draped over his shoulders.

Negan noticed her stares and smirked, letting his head fall for a moment before popping it back up. "Like something you see?" he boasted, snapping Arielle from her trance. Excusing herself, the woman let out a small breath, composing her posture.

"If I can be so candid," Arielle began, focusing on her shaky voice.

"Where in the shit did you learn to speak like that? Jensen never spoke in such a, uh - sophisticated manner," he joked, his hand loudly landing on the wooden table.

"My fa…" Stopping herself from continuing the sentence, Arielle cleared her throat. Her father stopped being her father when he sold his only child to someone in hopes to clear a debt. "Jensen wasn't educated."

"Obviously." Negan sat back in his seat, his eyes still on the girl. "Pardon my goddamn French but you are fucking gorgeous. I mean, Jensen wasn't much of a looker but, hot damn your mother must have been." Again his tongue slid across his bottom lip, this time getting stuck between his teeth. Negan contemplated her situation for a moment, knowing a woman her age was probably scared; Arielle didn't seem to be. With her collected composure, Negan watched as Arielle returned his hardened gaze. "You don't scare easy, do you?"

Arielle shook her head. Her father had put her through enough in the duration of her stay with him for her to learn to be afraid of no one. Before either one of them could continue the conversation, two women walked into the dining room with plates in their hands. "Ah, thank you Genevieve. Linda." The women where his workers - maids he had hired to help take care of the home while he attended more 'interesting' matters.

They both nodded, placing the plates in front of the diners. "Would there be anything else?" Linda asked while Genevieve walked back into what Arielle assumed was the kitchen.

"Not a damn thing darling," Negan responded, thanking his worker. With a slight bow, Linda quickly scurried away, but not before giving Arielle an apathetic glance.

"Who are you?" the blonde finally asked.

"I'm Negan."

"Yeah no, I got that. But who are you?" Negan's brows tugged together, his head slightly tilting to one side. "What is it you do; why do you have this massive house and maids and body guards? What did my father sign me up for?"

Finally Negan understood where Arielle was going with her question; all valid questions indeed. But Negan had decided long before picking her up to keep his activities secret for a while until he knew her stay was permanent. "Honey you're gonna be here for a long fucking time; let's start off with simpler questions." This didn't please or sedate her curiosity but Arielle accepted the answer - for now. If she was to stay with the man, she wanted to know exactly what she was getting herself into - or rather, what she was forced into.

"Fine," the woman sighed. "How about, how'd you know my size to fill an entire closet with clothes and shoes?"

"Now there's a question I can answer," Negan harped, sitting back in his seat, his hands placed in his lap. "Jensen and I made the deal about two weeks ago; I had him give me any and all information on you - on top of my own investigation. Afterward I had Linda go out and get you clothing I would love to see you in." Arielle's head bobbed up and down - not surprised by the information about her father. Thinking back it, she had noticed a drastic change in his attitude and personality.

"Why are there bars covering my window?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked with a smirk. "So you don't get any funny ideas."

"How many were before me?"

At that point something changed in the atmosphere; something changed in Negan's body language. Furrowing her brows, Arielle suddenly felt unsafe. "That's enough. Eat your dinner. It's getting cold."

"I don't mean to be the bearer of bad news but, I'm not a fan of seafood."

"I didn't ask." His stare darkened with something she had never seen before; like the way an animal glared as they stalked their prey. "Eat." Without a moment's hesitation, Arielle gripped onto the silver fork, quickly taking a bit from the grilled salmon he had prepared. From the corner of her eye she could see Negan smirking victoriously.

"Sir." Dwight appeared at the doorway, his hands together in front of him. Silently he beckoned his boss to accompany him to the other room for private matters and Negan excused himself. With her back turned Arielle listened to his footsteps disappearing around the doorway; she turned to watch him leave. Letting out the breath she was holding, she made a face, disgusted by the seafood and the situation.

She heard a noise and her head lifted to find Linda at the kitchen entrance way. Beckoning for Arielle to follow her, the blonde did just that. Careful so her heels didn't click against the tile flooring, she approached Linda. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-six," Arielle answered, rushed.

"You're the youngest yet," Linda groaned with a saddened sigh. "Listen. The first opportunity you have, you run."

"What is this? Who is he?"

"Negan is the biggest drug, weapons and human trafficker in the U.S. You need to run; 'cause it's only a matter of time before someone offers him a pretty penny for you and won't be so lucky in living with someone like Negan. He's brutal, yes, but he'll never hurt you intentionally. Other men though - that's a different story. Now go; sit back down and eat your dinner before he comes back." Linda raced back into the kitchen closing the door behind her, locking it. Frozen where she was, Arielle could feel herself hyperventilating but did her best to move back to the table.

"That was fucking annoying. I'm sorry for the ill timed intrusion, doll face." Negan's voice echoed through the dining room as he approached the girl. Placing his hands on her shoulder, he gave them a light squeeze causing Arielle to jump. "No need to be jumpy sweetheart, I ain't gonna bite." Negan moved to sit back in his seat. "Unless you want me to." A bout of laughter bellowed from his throat, his gloved hand landing on his stomach.

* * *

 _Quote: "I'm headed straight for the castle, they're got the kingdom locked up. And there's an old man sitting on the throne there saying I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut."_


	4. That Boy Is A Monster

**That Boy Is A Monster**

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 _tw: swearing; tw: death/murder_

* * *

Days passed from the initial dinner - uneventful but excruciatingly boring days. The life of being a prison in a jail house had appealed more to Arielle than staying locked in the room where she had only a small workout room and a television with a vast collection of movies to keep her entertained. Arielle wanted nothing more than a book to read or papers to write on with the idea of writing her own autobiography and hiding it for the next person to be imprisoned in the room.

Breakfast, lunch and dinner were spent with Negan in the dining room, escorted by either Dwight or his other bodyguard, who she came to learn was named Simon. Each meal was prepared by Negan who rather enjoyed occupying his time in the kitchen - a little trait of information Arielle had learned in the few meetings she had had with the man. Besides that tidbit of information, Arielle still didn't know too much about Negan and he refused to speak about what he did; the kind of business he was in.

Linda's heads up about his activities frightened Arielle; doing her best to ensure Negan was kept happy at all times whenever her presence was requested.

She was more than surprised to hearing about a small gathering Negan was holding at the house where he requested Arielle to join.

Blue hues stared back at her, her eyes scanning over her face. This wasn't her – it wasn't who she was. Arielle wasn't this high-end and expensive looking woman with fake lashes, red stained lips and rosy cheeks. But it was who Negan wanted and what Negan wanted, Negan got. With this thought repeating in her head, Arielle sighed. Her nightmare wasn't ending and it pained her to know there was no escaping the demons.

Before her grandparents had passed away Arielle would accompany them to church. The sermons hollered by the pastor was where she learned about the Almighty and how His love brought peace and joy in anyone's life who accepted Him into their lives. Once her grandparents passed away, the young girl questioned the existence of a Higher power; if there was one, why did they allow her mother to leave her so young? Why was she raised at the hands of an irresponsible piece of shit father? And why, if there was a God, wasn't she getting her break in life yet?

Personally Arielle believed she was a good person; didn't lie, didn't steal. Sure she was a sinner when it came to matters of the heart, but what was a little yearning to be loved?

Hearing the faint knocking against her bedroom door brought her thoughts back to reality. Another sigh rushed passed her lips as she smoothed the red mini sundress against her thighs. Moving her curled blonde hair behind her ear, the woman made her way to the bedroom door, opening it to find Dwight waiting to escort her down to the party.

"Boss man couldn't escort me himself?" Arielle questioned with a scuff, arms folding across her chest.

"He's entertaining guests," Dwight answered monotoned but obviously affected by her made-up appearance. Rolling her eyes at the man, Arielle closed the door behind her and beckoned for him lead the way. With it being only a few days into her capture, Arielle was still unfamiliar with the large mansion. She scanned the hallways they walked through, admiring the works of art on the walls, the décor placed meticulously at each corner. Though, sure Negan had nothing to do with the décor, she still applauded his taste.

As they approached the doors to the backyard, Arielle spotted Negan almost immediately. There was something in the way he told a story; animated, like a marionette. His arms spread wide then fell to his sides; his body bounced and swayed as if giving a demonstration of some kind. His audience was intrigued – laughing at all the right places, nodding and even gasping. The closer she walked toward him, the clearer she was able to see her surroundings. The entire backyard was filled with guests; men wearing jeans matched with suit jackets and women wearing decorative sundresses. Caterers swam through the crowd, providing drinks and hor d'oeuvres with impatient smiles on their faces.

"Ah, here she is," Negan announced with a smile. Arm extended, he beckoned for the blonde to join him; reluctantly she did. Plastering a friendly smile on her face, Arielle greeted the small group of people standing around Negan. "Meet my lovely fiance, Arielle."

Almost immediately her face fell; Arielle's head snapping toward Negan. Fiance? This was the first she was hearing about an engagement, let alone a marriage between the two. When Negan came to the house after her father informed her of the confidential arrangement, no one had mentioned an arranged marriage.

"Isn't she gorgeous?" Negan's laugh shook his chest, his arm snaking its way around her waist to pull her close. Everything in her wanted to push him away, slap him for implying she would marry such a monster and stomp away – however, Arielle knew better than to cause a scene in front of party guests. Consequences weren't worth the few moments of satisfaction in arguing. Instead, Arielle put on another fake smile as the group agreed with the man, showing their obvious attraction to the girl.

"Honey," Arielle choked. "May I speak with you in private, please?" Excusing herself from the crowd, Arielle slipped her arm with Negan's and lightly pulled him in the opposite direction.

"I'll be back y'all; gonna be a bit busy - next time you see me I'll have the biggest goddamn smile on my face -" His words were stopped when Arielle's elbow collided with his side. "What the shit!" he yelled at her as the door slammed shut behind them.

"Don't give me that," Arielle spoke, her voice raised. "When were you planning on telling me about the fine print that says I have to marry my captor?"

"You were right fucking there - I just announced it." Negan shrugged, his eyes traveling over her body. Outside he hadn't been able to get a good look but now, alone in the sun room, Negan was able to admire her slender but toned, long legs and the way her cleavage popped out from her low-cut dress. A low growl gurgled in his throat. "Goddamn you look good."

"Well get a good look, cause this." Arielle paused to point at herself. "Is all you are ever going to be seeing." She saw it - the exact moment Negan's mind switched from fun with a hint of sarcasm to complete sociopath. The fire behind his stare burned her skin, making her face fall from the sudden rush of fear washing over her. With one foot in front of the other, Negan slowly made his way forward, his eyes darkening with each step.

Suddenly, Negan's hand wrapped around her throat while his other slid around her torso as he moved her up against the wall. She could feel him and the sick, twisted way he got off on scaring her; his apparent bulge rubbed against her thigh. "You feel that?" His voice was deep and thick with hostility. "Get a good fucking feel 'cause that is your future." Tightening his hold around her throat, Negan lowered himself to where his lips were centimeters from her ear. "You seem to forget who you belong to." Tilting his head to get a better look at her, he watched as her blue hues widened and her face reddened from the lack of oxygen. "Now you're gonna go back out there and put on that pretty little smile and make nice with my guests."

Letting go of her throat, Negan took a step back as Arielle gasped for air, her hands instinctively holding her neck. "Find me when you recompose yourself and I'll let you make this up to me." With a slight wiggle of his arm, Negan turned on his heel and joined his guests.

Still standing against the wall, Arielle's chest heaved up and down, her chest aching from the sudden rush of air within them. Anyone else would have been petrified by the way Negan had treated her and seen a monster; anyone else, but Arielle. As she laid her back straight against the cool wall, her gaze moved toward the ceiling as she silently asked herself why she felt a sudden heat begin to travel down to her core. She could still smell the powerful cologne he wore as if his touch branded her skin, and the scent of stale cigarettes from his breath tickled her sense of smell.

At the doorway, Dwight peeked in trying not to disturb Arielle as she composed herself. But the woman saw the sudden movement and her body buckled. Realizing it was Dwight, her muscles relaxed as she slumped against the wall. "It's all about survival." Though he spoke quietly, the blonde heard him well enough to offer a nod in agreement. "What he's doing is distasteful, but if you wanna live you gotta do what you have to." Gaze falling on him, Arielle pushed herself from the wall, walking closer to him. But Dwight moved away, knowing if he were to be seen talking to the prisoner out of line, he would be punished. "We can't be seen together, Arielle. But take my words to heart. Go out there and make nice with his guests." Turning on his heel, Dwight disappeared into the house as Arielle stood where she was, dumbfounded.

Letting out a sigh, the woman moved toward the doors to the backyard, placing a forced smile on her face before stepping down onto the stoned patio. Negan stood a ways from the entrance, playing his role as host. Reluctantly her legs moved closer to Negan, keeping the smile on her face as she approached him and the guests he was entertaining. "I thought you got lost, sweetheart." Arielle flinched at the feel of his arm wrapping around her shoulders, a rough kiss placed against her cheek.

The rest of the day went along smoothly with Arielle nodding at all the right places, giving her false input when asked and seeing Negan in another light. She realized, when in front of guests, Negan was a completely different person; fun and sarcastic but also genuinely cared about his guests and their satisfaction. This little trait caught her off guard; mentally she decided to name him Dr. Jekyll, and his split personality, Mr. Hyde.

There was a moment where Arielle excused herself, moving to the open bar to request a gin and tonic. There was where she was met with a man who seemed overly interested in her. A little touchy with her, the man stroked her cheek as a hesitant smile formed along her lips, thanking him for the illicit compliment he made about her legs. From the corner of her eye she could see Negan watching closely, his body language changing almost immediately. However, he continued to entertain his guests and finished his story about his time meeting the Bono from the band U2 and how he simply wasn't a fan of the band after meeting the lead singer.

Once his story was finished, Negan motioned with two fingers for Simon to join him. Obeying, Simon approached Negan, handing him his most prized possession. "Now as many of you know I am a true fan of America's greatest fucking pastime." Holding up his baseball bat, Negan's grin grew wider. "And why wouldn't you be? It's a great fucking game!" Guests took this as a sign to laugh at his remark, the atmosphere quickly changing; Arielle could feel it. Slumping against the bar counter, she sipped on her gin and tonic, focusing on her breathing.

"This bat right here, I'm sure you've all learned, is very dear to me. Signed by the great Babe Ruth, it hits home-runs with every goddamn use." As he spoke, Negan sauntered his way toward the open bar, his darkening eyes falling upon the man standing next to Arielle. Seeing this, the blonde took a few steps back, her grip tighter on her glass. "Everyone here should know when you touch what's mine without permission, there are consequences." Suddenly, as if on cue, those around Negan moved from their spots, following Arielle in taking a few steps away. Negan's glare never fell from his target and his bat, once resting on his shoulder, was dropped toward the ground, his fist flexing against the grip.

"That woman right there." Using his bat to point at Arielle, Negan scuffed. "That's mine. And you sir." He moved the bat to point at the man. "Just touched what's mine." Without a moment's hesitation, Negan swung the bat, hard, onto the man's head. The sound of bone cracking underneath the bat echoed through the crowd as they watched the man fall to his knees; Negan swinging the bat onto his head one last time before the man's lifeless body fell onto the ground.

The crowd stayed silent, almost unfazed by the action but Arielle flinched, her eyes watering in fear. Negan's heavy breathing turned into a low chuckle, shaking his head at the man while Simon collected the bat. Blood spatter covered Negan's attire as high as his face; he wiped the blood from his cheek with the offered handkerchief. "And that, ladies and gentleman, concludes the engagement party. Get the fuck outta here." Like cockroaches scurrying when the lights flip on, the guests moved toward the exits of the estate, leaving as fast as they possibly could.

Dwight and Simon, along with a few other men dressed in black suits, attended to the deceased man. Grabbing a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar, Negan poured himself a drink and beckoned for the woman to join him. With her eyes blued on the bloodied mess on the grass, Arielle's legs slowly took her closer to him, her hand hesitantly placed against the counter.

"I apologize about him, sweetheart. I won't let any man touch you like that again. I'm sorry I wasn't there to prevent it." And just like that, Mr. Hyde was buried within and Dr. Jekyll reached his arm out, caressing her cheek lightly. "Jensen will be the last man to ever treat you less than what you deserve."

Something told her his words were a lie.

* * *

 **Author's Note: A little more action in this one! I'm also going to give a heads-up, I will more than likely be changing the way this is written and move it to first person. I am undecided, however. Please review! xoxo**


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